Page 56 of Along Came a Rogue

“I wasn’t alone.” Emily cast a grateful smile at Grey as he moved to stand beside Thomas. “I had Major Grey to protect me.”

Mary glowered briefly in Grey’s direction, as if displeased that he, of all people, had been sent to Yorkshire to fetch her daughter, before smiling again at Emily. “Nevertheless, we were worried. An uneventful trip, I hope?”

She lowered her eyes, unable to answer in a way that wouldn’t make her mother faint.

“Well, thank God you’ve arrived safely. We were so upset when we received your letter, stating that you couldn’t travel. Of course, it was perfectly understandable, but—” Her mother broke off suddenly and frowned in bewilderment. “Whatever are you wearing?”

Emily shot a pleading glance at Grey to keep his silence. Knowing her family might be in danger even now from whoever killed Andrew, she hesitated over how much of the truth to tell them, wanting to reveal all her secrets in her own way, in her own time.

Grey’s eyes met hers, and although he didn’t say a word, she now knew him well enough to know that he understood. But there was something else there in the warm chocolate depths of his eyes that caught her attention, something that had been there all day through his distraction and that she couldn’t quite fathom—

“Emily?” her mother pressed, interrupting her reverie.

“My apologies,” she mumbled and turned away from Grey to force a smile for her mother. “We left Snowden quickly, so I wasn’t able to properly pack.”

Mary’s frown only deepened. “But surely Yardley—”

“So quickly that Yardley had to follow behind,” she added, carefully avoiding Thomas’s eyes as she dissembled and resisting the urge to place her hand protectively over her baby. Her brother had an uncanny ability to read people, and he’d always been able to see right through her, even when they were children. “I had to buy a dress along the way, and we didn’t have time for it to be altered.”

“Well, no matter.” Her mother looped her arm through Emily’s and led her from the foyer toward the drawing room. “You are here now, and that is all that matters. Tomorrow, we shall go to Madame Bernaise and have you measured for a new wardrobe.”

Measured by a modiste, who would see her without her clothes—Emily cast a panicked look over her shoulder at Grey, who only stared silently back as her mother led her away, leaving it up to her to tell her family the truth.

“Thomas?” his mother called out to him. “You’ll join us in the drawing room?”

With amusement, Grey noted that her question was actually a command, and one that predictably ignored him. Just as he noted that Thomas stood his ground and didn’t move from Grey’s side.

“In a moment, Mother. I want to properly thank Grey for bringing Emily to us.” With a smile, and surprising strength for a man still convalescing, Thomas slapped his hand onto Grey’s shoulder and turned him toward the stairs. “Come up to the billiards room. Have a drink with me before you go.”

A warning knotted in Grey’s gut at Thomas’s sudden cheerfulness. “I should be going—”

“I insist.” Thomas’s smile deepened.

And so did the warning in his gut to flee. But there was no way out of it. It was time to pay the piper. He nodded and smiled grimly, knowing what was coming. “I’d love a whiskey.”

As Thomas slowly started up the stairs ahead of him and Mary Matteson led Emily into the drawing room, Grey caught a last glimpse of her as she raised her hand to swipe at her eyes. He halted. Emily was crying—Lord, how he hated when she cried! His hands fisted at his sides as he fought the urge to return to her, sweep her into his arms, carry her from the house, and then—

And then nothing. He was still going to Spain, and with all the planning for the baby’s arrival and her sudden return to her family and society, Emily would soon forget him. It was the right ending for both of them.

But damnation, the right ending certainly hurt like hell.

He bit back a curse and spun on his heel to follow after Thomas, up the stairs and into the billiards room. Distracted by Emily’s tears, he stepped into the room where the two men usually spent most of their time—

Thomas’s fist plowed hard into his face. The force of the unexpected punch propelled him back against the wall.

“Christ!” He glared at Thomas, not even considering returning the punch. Because Thomas was so weak that a single push could send him sprawling onto the floor. And because he knew he deserved it. Instead, he met his friend’s angry gaze and blew out a hard breath, arching a wry brow. “Feel better now?”

Thomas gave a curt nod even as he panted hard for breath after the exertion of the punch. “Much.”

Leaving Grey to rub his throbbing cheek, Thomas crossed to the liquor cabinet in the corner. He retrieved a bottle, splashed whiskey into two tumblers, then held one out in a belated peace offering.

Satisfied at the tenuous truce between them, Grey accepted the proffered glass. He couldn’t help but notice the irony that this was the room where they’d always ended up on past evenings when he’d come to visit. And the same room filled with hard sticks perfect for beating him senseless should Thomas still carry a grudge about Emily that the punch hadn’t satisfied.

“You’re doing better since I left,” Grey commented as Thomas sank into one of the red leather chairs lining the wall. Choosing to stay out of punching distance, he leaned back against the billiards table, rubbed his cheek, and winced at the bruise already forming there at the corner of his eye. He muttered, “Obviously.”

“Strong enough to get out of bed now, but my side still hurts like hell.” His eyes—as sapphire blue as his sister’s—stared at Grey over the rim of his glass as he took a sip. He shook his head with incredulous disbelief. “You and the brat, for God’s sake…” There was more curiosity in Thomas’s voice than anger, and Grey took that as a hopeful sign, despite the throbbing at his cheek. “What in the hell were you thinking?”

His fingers clenched against the rail of the billiards table as he stared down into the whiskey. He hadn’t been thinking, that was the problem. When he was with Emily, she chased all rational, logical thought from his mind, and all he knew was the joy of being with her. She made him feel dashing, brave, strong…worthy of someone like her. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known, inside and out.